Nouveau Commencement
by SingsforPhantom
Summary: Introduction I’m sure almost all of you have read or heard of the first Phantom of the Opera story by Leroux at least once or twice. Well, you’re reading the “sequel” or sequel wannabe of it so I’m going to assume you have. There have been a ton of remake


_Nouveau Commencement_

_**By: Alexa Haines**_

Introduction I'm sure almost all of you have read or heard of the first Phantom of the Opera story by Leroux at least once or twice. Well, you're reading the "sequel" or sequel wanna-be of it so I'm going to assume you have. There have been a ton of remakes of the classic epic about the love of the disfigured man with the mask. They all bring a little more pizzazz to the story but some of them are too contemporary for my taste. This sequel could be, almost, directly adjacent to the original Leroux novel with a little bit of outside influence from Susan Kaye's remake of The Phantom of the Opera. However, it's going to be much shorter due to my lack of time and energy. Perhaps someday I'll fill in the gaps. Anyway, I'm sure I'm boring you. Enjoy this story.

The catacombs under the Paris Opera House were silent. All that could be heard was the "drip, drip, drip" sound of water trickling off the ceiling. Everything was dark and moist. It was in horrible condition now. The flood had destroyed everything and even after that, Erik had been in too weak a condition to rebuild his world. Erik, the "Phantom of the Opera," announced dead in _L'Epoque_, the man with the voice of pure beauty yet a face of pure horror. His domain had been like a child's fairyland. Erik's sense of reality was that of a child's. He'd created a world of illusion and fantasy but had no concept of anything real or true. That is until he met Christine Daaé. She gave him a new perspective on life and a new hope for normality. Before he died, Erik made her promise to put the ring that he had given her back on his ring finger. That is why she had come down into the undergrounds, to keep a promise to a man to whom she owed so much.

Christine looked around at the remains of the once vibrant kingdom. It saddened her deeply to gaze on the sad ruins and all that remained of Erik. All of the candelabras that had once created shadows and light were smashed to the ground. The house on the lake was torn apart and had collapsed. There was water everywhere, so much that Christine's feet were soaked to the bone. Everything was smashed, trashed, and left in apparent disrepair. She couldn't find the organ, but she knew she would not be able to bear to see it smashed.

The walls seemed to glow blue from the lake's reflection and a tiny bit of light that inhabited the dark labyrinth. Now Christine had to look for Erik's body. She remembered what Erik had told her as she roamed around, "_Christine, I ask you one last favor. I am about to die. I am not sure of when but I know it will be soon. I ask that you take the gold ring, which I gave you, and place it on my finger to forever free you of your promise to me. You will be able to find me near the place of confinement where I kept the Viscount captive for some time. Please give me this kindness and I shall be forever grateful to you._" Christine kept Erik's promise and memory in her heart and soul. It pained her to think of the few times they'd had together.

She had been summoned to the Opera once again by the Persian. He'd gone down to Erik's domain and confirmed to her that he was dead. She remembered that day with such lamentation. The Persian, who was a previous acquaintance of Erik, had come to the home of Christine and Raoul. After being released by Erik, Christine and Raoul got married as soon as they could and moved into the Viscount's home just North of Paris. As soon as Christine saw the Persian enter the main hallway, her heart skipped a beat. He had spoken to her in his soft, reassuring way, "Mademoiselle, I think you know why I am here," the Persians' eyes were sad but his voice remained firm, "Erik… is dead…" Christine kept her grief inside long enough to thank him for coming to their home and informing them about Erik. The Persian claimed he was probably going to head back to his home in Paris and that if Christine should ever need his assistance he would be there.

Now she found herself back in the familiar territory of the Opera House. It had been only a few days since she'd been here but it felt like a lifetime. She had come the day after the Persian had informed her of Erik's death. After searching around the edge of the lake, she saw him. The sight brought tears that she had been forcing back all those days. Erik's body was curled up in a corner inside the prison where Raoul had been held. Christine tried to fight her emotions. One last time she gazed at a face that had once brought her fear and now made her feel sympathy and sorrow. This man, who had so much faith in her voice and gave her lessons in her dressing room every day, now lay here lifeless. She slipped the gold ring off her finger and onto his. Erik's hand was cold and moist so the ring slid right on. Christine held his hand a little bit longer and before she went to leave she whispered in his ear. Before she could speak her lips began to quiver and as tears descended from her eyes onto his cheek she knew she could not say a word. Christine picked up her skirts biting her lip to try and stop her tears. She walked back to the exit to the upper levels. As she walked away she turned around one more time to glace at Erik and then ran up the exit stairs.

Perhaps you recall the managers M. Moncharmin and M. Richard who were in charge during the phantom crisis. Well, they have both continued to run the Opera House in an orderly fashion and keep new and creative operas selling. They were both a little hesitant in the beginning to keep Mme. Daaé or rather Madame de Chagny in the cast but overlooked all past problems with her. The managers were looking forward to a season without the bothers of an Opera Ghost and letters and missing money, and all other bothers that had previously occurred.

"My dear Moncharmin," M. Richard sighed, "Why the devil are we hiring this new tenor when his credentials sound absolutely ridiculous? I mean really, we have not heard him utter a note and you're pushing for him to be hired. What is the meaning of this?"

"Richard, do you not recollect the incident where our prize tenor mysteriously got influenza and passed away two months after being bed-ridden?" M. Moncharmin said with exasperation.

"Of course I remember."

"Well, then you remember also our dire need for a decent tenor and being as this was the only man who even _included _so much as two pages of credentials, I'd say he's as good as hired."

Richard looked at Moncharmin with surprise, "I am NOT going to put the entire Opera's welfare on the line because you weren't careful about who you put in the cast. I want more options and I want auditions, not this written out rubbish."

Moncharmin glared at Richard and nodded his head, "Alright, alright! I thought that this would make things easier I mean look at it this way, Monsieur. Who is going to apply for an opening at the Paris Opera House if they cannot sing? But, I suppose that we should have a set audition so that our music directors can hear for themselves the men who want to take the place of the lead tenor."

Suddenly, Madame Giry entered the directors' office. Her face was flustered and red as she began to slowly speak, "I am so sorry… to… disturb you Monsieur's but there is a man here who wishes… to see you about the tenor position." The directors eyed Madame Giry with suspicion and then glanced at each other.

M. Moncharmin raised his eyebrow and declared, "Well what are you waiting for Madame, show him in we haven't got all day here." Madame Giry curtsied and rushed out the door.

"So it begins." said M. Richard. They waited patiently for the man to come in. At last Madame Giry returned with a slight grin on her face.

"My dear directors, may I present M. Christophe Maquin. He wishes to audition for the tenor position." Moncharmin and Richard observed this young man carefully. He was quite tall and built. He had thick brown hair that was neatly combed back. He was clean-shaven and had quite distinctive eyes that seemed to penetrate their thoughts along with that perfect smile.

"Well now let's get on with it," said M. Richard impatiently, "Let us go and see M. Lerone and see what he says about you." They all walked down the stairs from the directors' office to the main stage. The group continued to walk down the aisle until they made their way onto the stage. Christophe looked at the stage with an awe and delight that gives him a rush of humility. M. Lerone's office is not far from back-stage.

"M. Lerone, this young man wishes to audition for the tenor position in the company. Could you share us a few minutes and give us your opinion on his voice… erm…. quantity?"

M. Richard's face turns slightly pink at the mistake and the music director smiles mockingly and says, "Why of course, I'd be delighted to look at the _quality_ and technique of this young man's voice. Let us go into the theater so you'll be able to hear a little better."

Once in the theater, Christophe asks nervously, "What, should I sing?"

"Do you know any sections from _Roméo and Juliette_?" asked the music director in a soporific tone.

"I know one of Roméo's songs," said Christophe confidently. M. Lerone pulled out the score and pointed to a page of music and Christophe nodded. M. Lerone began to play the introduction. At last the piano quieted down and Christophe began to sing. He had a beautiful voice; it was so pure and accurate. The directors looked at Christophe with a hungry excitement. With this kind of tenor they were sure to have the house sold out every night!

"Excellent!" said M. Moncharmin earnestly interrupting Christophe's song, "You've got the position, you're voice is perfect, don't you agree M. Lerone?"

M. Lerone looked annoyed at this remark but due to his amazement he merely nodded his head in agreement. The directors then walked off talking eagerly about their new plans for the Opera. M. Lerone also began to walk back towards his office. Then he turned around and said, "Rehearsal starts for you tomorrow morning, be there early," and then walked off again.

Christophe looked all around and couldn't believe the words he was saying to himself, "_Christophe, you are the new lead tenor at the Paris Opera House_."

The darkness was unsettling to Christine after days of waking up to pure light and of course love for the last couple weeks. She and her Raoul had only been married a few days and they were as happy as the day they'd been married. Their marriage was simple but it was a quaint ceremony. Christine had worn a plain, white, silken dress that had belonged to her mother. She wore no veil but precariously placed a wreath of white roses and baby's breath in her curls. Raoul was dressed in his finest and looked more dashing than ever. Their marriage was held at a tiny church outside of Paris. No one else was present except the priest. They took their vows away from the world. The wedding had been wonderful in Christine's mind; she couldn't recall when she had felt happier. The wedding didn't end the joviality; they had gone on all sorts of adventures. They'd walked around the gardens and Christine would sing to Raoul and then they'd dine out in the gardens themselves on warm blankets with their dinner contained in a basket. These times with Raoul allowed her to forget her troubles for a short time. They comforted her.

Although, Christine's venture back to the depths of the Opera gave her an unsettling feeling as well as making Raoul jealous. "Why must you go back down to that swamp of filth and horror? Erik is gone and you need not go there again," he had said and at this point she slapped him lightly and told him to respect Erik's death. Raoul had then remained silent and left the issue alone.

Now, months later, she had to go back to the Opera House and ask M. Richard and M. Moncharmin to take her back and let her sing for the opera again. No other Opera held the place in her heart more than that one. It was where she made her first debut, and all she wanted was to continue to sing there. She knew she owed it to Erik to use the gifts he had given her through lessons. That poor man whose face could have frightened a grown man. The thought of it made her shiver. She could not help but remember the horror of when she first saw Erik's face…

"Christine, do you want me to come with you? To support you? I know how much this must mean to you and I want to be there for you." Raoul kissed Christine's hand as a gentleman should and then took her in for a passionate embrace. Their lips brushed on another for a brief moment and then Christine ran out of Raoul's arms.

"I have to hurry and get dressed or I'll be late," Christine said flustered with mixed emotions. "_Why are moments such as that always ruined by something!_" she thought despairingly. However, she did manage to give Raoul one more kiss before they left. Their love was young and playful and Christine felt as though everything was truly working out for the better. As they began to walk out to their carriage, Christine began to feel nauseous. The feeling got worse until she turned to Raoul and choked out, "Raoul, I'll… be right…back… I seem to have forgotten my… handkerchief," and she turn and ran back towards the house making every effort not to soil her dress.

Christine left her chamber quite puzzled. She hadn't eaten anything disagreeable and she knew she wasn't ill because she didn't feel dizzy, or warm, or anything of that sort. She tampered with the idea that she was just nervous about going back to the Opera and accepted that as the reason for her sudden nausea. Raoul was waiting patiently outside. "Countess, have you your handkerchief?" he inquired playfully.

"Why no Sir Count, I could not seem to find it. Perhaps, it will turn up," Christine laughed and stepped into the carriage with Raoul. She soon forgot about her sickness and began to ponder what she would say to the directors and how she could forget about Erik.

"Countess, what an unexpected surprise! Would you care to sit down?" said M. Richard in his overly syrupy voice.

"I would prefer that you addressed me as Madame de Chagny. If you don't mind." Christine said to the managers. She was always uncomfortable about this, especially in front of Raoul, but she did not want to be referred to as "Countess." The only one who called her Countess was Raoul and it was more of a pet name than anything else. The title made her feel superior and oddly out of place. A couple of months ago she was merely a poor singer who was lucky to have a chorus salary. Now she was Countess? No, Christine preferred to use Raoul's name, nothing more she felt was necessary.

"As you wish Madame. Now what business would you like that we discuss today?" M. Moncharmin felt what was coming. He was almost pink with excitement. Mme Daaé or de Chagny as she wished had been a valuable asset to the Opera and he hoped that she would like to continue her career. She had really sold tickets.

Christine held Raoul's hand for support, "I have come to ask that I be re-hired by you to sing. Despite past, events, I hope that none will hinder my desires to sing again. I have asked no other Operas, as of yet, because this Opera holds my heart and soul. It is where I have made my debut and have sung a great deal more. I hope to continue and finish here but if there is no room than I shall search at another opera." The managers practically jumped up from their seats. They mingled words of "Of course!" "We'd be delighted!" Christine was relieved and happy. She loved this Opera House. Raoul also had a reserved box here so he would be front and center for all of her performances.

"Pardon me Messieurs, but would you permit me to look around a little bit, it's my… first time back." Christine's palms began to sweat. She despised lying but they could not know that she had indeed been back here once to keep her promise to Erik. The directors were so busy talking to Raoul about his continuous patronage that Christine managed to slip away into the vast maze of hallways and corridors.

Christine first paid a visit to her old dressing room. The nameplate on her door was faded and had not been changed over the months that she was away. Christine felt a girlish pleasure fill her; she loved this dressing room. Some her most beautiful sounds came from in this room. Christine's memory jerked but she would not allow it to replay the horrors and misfortunes that had befallen her. Christine had first heard Erik's mystical voice, which she had mistaken for an Angel's voice, in this room. Christine touched all of her costume accessories with care almost as if she was afraid to break them.

She couldn't understand why she felt so different and out of place. She still had the same passion for singing, as always, she was just married now. She was married to Raoul, a wealthy man who she cared about immensely. She thought of Raoul and smiled; he was such a boy at times. Suddenly, she felt overcome with sickness in her stomach. Christine bent over with pain and closed her eyes. She looked into the mirror and saw herself hunched over looking absolutely miserable. The nausea vanished as quickly as it came and Christine stopped to critique herself. She stared back at her reflection. She was still fairly tall, about 5'8 oddly enough, almost too tall for the opera. She was not as frail as she had been; she'd gained a few more curves and looked rosy and healthy. Her skin was no longer a pasty white. With the make-up she had been buying now, her face had color too it. "_Almost too much color_" she thought as she used a clean handkerchief to wipe some of it off. Her hair hadn't changed, still curly and brown although she hardly ever wore it down anymore. It was pinned defenselessly on top of her head in coils. She sighed and took out the pins and let her curls roll down her back. She looked more like the young, naïve, Christine who had had strong ambitions to sing but a voice that wouldn't have gotten her a lead. Her voice had lacked technique and training. She smiled thinking of her chorus days. No lines were present near her smile but she knew that they were soon to appear. Especially with all of the smiling she had been doing lately. However, she wasn't happy about her recent sick feelings. She thought that perhaps she should see a doctor to make sure that it wasn't something serious.

"Christine, Christine!" a voice called to her and echoed through the opera.

Christine froze. Her heart began to pound and then she saw Raoul poke his head in the door of her dressing room.

"Excuse me Mademoiselle, I'm looking for my wife, she's about your height has brown hair and is a stunning Opera Star. Have you seen her?" He grinned and pulled Christine into an embrace. "You mustn't look so young, you'll have all of the young men in the chorus flirting, and I'll be jealous!" Christine laughed and allowed herself be swept in his arms all the while, ignoring the queasiness that had overcome her again.

When Christine awoke, she found herself in the infirmary in the opera. Flustered, she looked around and saw Raoul standing near her.

"Christine, you'll never guess what's going to happen!"

"What's going on?" Christine said bewildered.

"We were about to leave and you fainted in my arms and I took you here. The doctor was just here and it appears… it looks as if we're going to have a baby!"

Christine beamed, "A baby! Oh, that's so wonderful! Did he say how long it would be until our baby will be born?"

Raoul grinned, "The doctor says our baby we'll be born in the late spring, almost 8 months away!"

Christine felt herself blush, but then her face began to go white. "Oh… Raoul… I…" she couldn't formulate the words.

"Christine, are you alright are you feeling dizzy again?"

"Yes… I mean… I just need some time alone, I'm rather tired. Would you take me home?"

"Of course my love."

The way home seemed long to Christine for she was so exhausted. When their carriage arrived at the de Chagny home Raoul helped Christine to her bedchamber. After he had left her, she lay down on her bed. She placed her hand over her mouth.

"No," she murmured to herself, "no, it was all a dream; it can't be… it just can't." After these words, her exhaustion got the better of her and she drifted off to sleep.

"_Erik… I knew you couldn't be dead."_

"_Christine, as far as I can tell I am dead. Your angel is dead, I am near death so please let me die in peace. I can't bear to see you here. Go back to your Vicomte. He loves you and is handsome and has much to offer. Your kiss healed me in more ways than you can possibly imagine. Let me die with that. Let me die with the dream that you once loved me."_

"_Angel no… I can't let you… not before I say goodbye."_

"_Christine, you can't stay here please leave. You only cause me more pain."_

"_Let me just kiss you goodbye… please… just one kiss can't to any harm…"_

"Oh!" Christine woke with a start. She realized that she was sweating. Christine got up from her bed and sat down at her dressing table. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. She thought of the time with her Angel of Music and how much he had loved her. Tear began to stream down her face. What was she doing, what had she done to him? She looked at that reflection in the mirror and realized how much she despised herself. She had killed him; his love for her was so strong that it had killed him. If only she had just left after the mob came. No, she had gone back and… said goodbye. Yes she had said goodbye, by giving herself to him. She could never in her mind rationalize why. She looked up at the mirror again.

"You FOOL!" she cried out in rage and threw a decorative box at the mirror until it had shattered onto her. Bits of the glass were in her hair and had scraped her hands but she didn't care. She felt she deserved to die. She put her head down on the dresser and wept bitterly. She wept for her Angel whom she had destroyed through her own foolishness and she wept for herself and for the bad decisions she had made. She stood up and eyed her stomach. Christine bit her lip but that didn't stop her tears. Now, she wept for this baby, this innocent baby who would never know its true father.

Suddenly, Raoul entered. He must have heard the shattering of the mirror. He rushed over to Christine's side. "My love, Christine, what has happened? Are you alright?"

Christine nodded but her lip began to quiver and she let herself go and began to weep. Raoul tried to comfort her but he found that he could not. His shirt was moist from her tears.

"Christine, Countess, what is wrong? Are you sick, hurt? Please tell me!"

"I just…" Christine found herself lying to him, "I just broke the mirror and… I couldn't help myself from crying. I just have… these emotion swings. It's nothing to worry about. I am nothing but a big crybaby." Christine forced herself to smile.

"Are you sure?" After Christine nodded Raoul sighed, "That's good to hear. Don't worry, I'll have Françoise clean this mess up in no time and I'll buy you a new mirror. Would that please you?"

"Yes." She felt guilty at how much he was concerned.

"Are you sure you're alright Madame Countess?"

Christine found herself smiling and Raoul kissed her quickly and then left her chamber. Christine felt so childish for lying to Raoul but she knew in her heart that he could never understand. All she heard in her dreams was the voice of her beloved Angel who could never come back to her and sing. He now was an Angel, but he would always be her Angel of Music. She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and climbed into bed. She needed rest for tomorrow she was going to start rehearsal for the new opera. As her eyes closed she heard her Angel sing, and her sadness subsided.

Erik opened his eyes. For a moment he glanced around to figure out where he was. His hunger and weakness had established what day it was. He looked around and realized that he was not in his Lake but he was in a chamber that was adjacent to the Lake. He picked up his hand and wiped his eyes. As soon as he touched his face his hand shot back from it as if it has been burned. His mask was not there. His one protection and certainty was gone from him. He shrunk back in his corner and realized that he had never felt so vulnerable. At that moment he remembered Christine. The thought of her made him feel such grief and defeat. He remembered the last moments they'd had together. He remembered how she had come back into his home and given herself to him one last time. This time, it had been of her own free will. His eyes began to well up at the thought of her love and pity for him. He would never in his life forget her. He stopped weeping and then realized that it couldn't have been real. He remembered now, she had left him after the flood had destroyed his home. He knew that now, he knew that his herbal concoction had delivered him some very vivid fantasies. He had been ill from the chill of the flood but he wanted to disappear again from the whole world for he knew that there was nothing else for him. He had mixed a solution of herbs and things that made a human's body for the slightest time appear to be dead. When the Persian came down to check on Erik he had found him in this state. It slowed the breathing and heart to almost invisibility and it caused a person to fall into a deep impenetrable sleep. He knew that the mixture must have played with his emotions and dreams to cause him to hallucinate. He smiled at the sheer idea that Christine would have actually given herself to a monster like him when she has the gallant Viscomte at her feet. The idea of it! The thought of Christine being married to a philistine like Raoul de Chagny amused him slightly. Erik closed his eyes and began to sob. God, how he'd loved her. He wished that he wasn't so deformed; he knew how much of a monster he was and was anger at himself for thinking otherwise. He looked down at his elegant dress wear that was now soiled, torn, and ruined. This was how he belonged, he belonged in this hell. He curled up in his corner and hoped that he would soon die.

Suddenly, he heard giggling from above. It was high and shrill and must be coming from the dancers' dressing room. He heard two of them gossiping gaily.

"Claudette I'm surprised at you! You know it's the Viscomte! How could you be so wicked in your assumptions?"

The girl giggled, "Oh Meg, don't be such an old maid! I mean think about it! Christine and the Count have only been married a month and I heard M. Jean-Claude say that the doctor told Christine that the baby would be due in _a little less _than eights months."

"Oh please, Claudette! You're just assuming things! Really now, they have known each other longer than a month! Besides maybe they _have_ been married more than a month."

"Really Meg, you think too much of Christine!"

"I'm just trying to explain to you the logic. Besides, who else is there? She frolicked with no other young gentlemen."

"How do you know?" Claudette said, "I heard rumors that she was down with the Opera Ghost for a whole night. Who knows what he may have done?"

"Claudette! That's impossible! Christine would have said something! Besides, you know that he died more than a month ago and he doesn't like to have anyone even look at him let alone touch him. I think you're filling your head with nonsense. We should be happy for Christine and not be doubting her innocence."

"Meg you know me better than that; I'm only teasing! I can't wait to see her baby! The baby is bound to be beautiful with the handsome Count has its father and Christine as the mother."

"I hope so."

Erik heard them leave after being called to rehearsal. He couldn't fathom any of this. Surely Christine's visit to him was a hallucination. It had to have been! She was having a baby. His Christine was having a baby. He was happy for her, he really was. I hoped that the Count was happy as well. He signed and wiped his dirty face on his jacket. Suddenly he stopped and exhaled. There was something on his jacket. He smelled it again and realized what it was. Christine's scent was all over him. That beautiful scent of her perfume was on _his _clothing. So it hadn't been a dream, it was true. Christine had given herself to him before she thought that he had died. It pained him to know that he couldn't really remember a lot of it. It was all a big blur but he remembered what he had felt and he shivered with joy. Maybe it was possible that… Christine may be carrying _his _child after all. He smiled at the idealistic thoughts of young Claudette and the other dancers. If only they knew how right their gossip may be. Erik's smile then reversed as quickly as it had come. What if it was his baby and… it looked like him? "_Then everyone would know_" he thought, "_and Christine would be disgraced! I can't let that happen to her!_" Erik felt rage at the idea that people would disgrace her. Erik remembered that the baby might be normal but he hated to think of what would happen if it looked like him. I wouldn't wish his fate on his worst enemy. He had no one now. Christine had Raoul and they would now raise Christine's baby, _his _baby… _His_ baby. The baby! He told himself that he would regain his lost strength and become healthy again. He had to; this could be his last chance to love someone. Babies are innocent and they love whoever raises them. _He _would raise that baby and have the love that was lost from his life.

"Raoul… I think… I think… OH… Raoul… it's time!" Christine felt a sharp pain beneath her abdomen and knew that she would be having her baby today. It had been a glorious nine months… well eight months. She kept telling herself that it was just a little early, but she knew she wouldn't be able to fool herself. Today she should be happy and excited for her knew child but instead she was scared and worried. "_It's Erik's child, I know it is. What will I do if the baby looks like him? What will I tell Raoul? They Opera? What will they all say!_"

Raoul quickly summoned the mid-wife and Christine went up to her chamber while Raoul waited outside.

"Ok Madame, now push… hard… you're almost there." The mid-wife urged.

Christine knew she was almost done and hadn't heard any comments from the mid-wife… yet. She pushed as hard as she could and she heard a cry. She knew it was a baby's cry and she held her breath and was relieved yet anxious.

"Oh Madame, elle est belle! She is _beautiful_ Madame! You have a daughter!" The mid-wife was so excited that her words seem to come out in squeaks. Christine couldn't help but realize that maybe the baby was Raoul's after all. But as she held her new daughter and looked into the baby's eyes her heart stopped. They were as blue as Erik's if not bluer. The baby also had Erik's wispy auburn hair. Christine's heart filled with a joy see could not describe as the baby yawned in her arms. She had stopped crying and was now looking up at Christine with those eyes which had the same sentience as Erik's.

"Hello there little one." Christine cooed, "Oh, your Papa would be so happy if he knew about you. You would make him smile. Your Papa… he didn't smile very much. You're going to smile all the time I'll see to that. You'll have a good life, a good life, and you'll have a new Papa. Raoul will be your Papa now and you'll love him." Christine couldn't take her eyes off her new daughter. A few minutes later Raoul came into her chamber to see his new baby.

"Christine! Oh, Christine how is our baby?" Raoul came over the bed and stood next to Christine.

"Come meet our daughter Raoul." The words seemed to tangle in her throat and she desperately wanted to tell him the truth about the baby but now she was more concerned about what would happen to her daughter more than anything else. She wanted her child to have a name and a place and she did not want her to be isolated.

Christine gave the baby to Raoul who seemed almost a little clumsy with her; it was as if he thought he would drop her and had to hold her tight. "She's beautiful Christine; she looks like you. Such hair and her eyes, so lovely. She will grow up to be beautiful like my beautiful wife." He leaned over and kissed Christine on her forehead. He gave the baby back to Christine and soon after Christine fell asleep with her new daughter cradled in her arms.

When their baby, Gevette, was a few weeks old Christine returned to rehearsals. She was out of practice but once she got back into the swing of things her range and perfection returned. Rehearsals became long and tiresome but she found such pleasure in returning to her home and spending the evening with her daughter and husband.

Now that Chistophé was the new tenor the company had to work slower because he didn't know the piece that they were working on and ever since the previous tenor, after Piangy, died of sickness, their rehearsals had been halted. After Piangy was killed, Roberto had filled his place and sung in a few performances because he was the understudy and knew Piangy's roles. It was terrible loss for the company when he fell ill and could not sing because there was no other man in the company who had the voice to become lead tenor. Now that Christophé was here the old routine returned and the company sounded magnificent. Chistophé was a talented singer and his background helped that immensely.

Christophé grew up in a small town outside of Paris and his parents were both musicians. His mother was a singer and his father was a violist. They were very poor and lived in a small house but Christophé had as happy a childhood as any. His mother and father were very talented musicians but never wanted acclaim; they both performed in the small town and gave lessons to the villagers. His father had attempted to teach him the viola but Christophé found it difficult and did not have the talent for it. His mother had instructed him on voice since he had been three and through the years his voice and grown and gotten richer, deeper, and close to perfection. He was an only child and had the constant love and support of his parents.

When he was eighteen, he left the small village to go to Paris and try to sing. He was poor and couldn't afford to live anywhere. When he couldn't find anyplace to stay he resided on the street singing for money and sleeping in the streets. After a year of this way of life, which didn't bother him much because he enjoyed singing, he managed to find a small job as an apprentice to a violinmaker. He learned a great deal about constructing violins. The owner's name was Monsieur Belrouge. Monsieur Belrouge had taken quite a liking to Christophé. With this job Christophé was living with the Belrouge family.

Christophé worked as an apprentice for several years and was soon a gifted violinmaker. Monsieur Belrouge was not too old and he then had Christophé as a second violinmaker in the shop. Christophé had made enough money though this to afford a small flat in Paris. Although he was perfectly content with this life he still longed to sing for people, as that was his love. It had hurt him to leave Monsieur Belrouge after all of his guidance and kindness but he felt the need to follow him dreams. After some painful goodbye's he left Belrouge's Violins and sought to be an opera singer.

He attempted several times to sing for small operas in Paris and he obtained many good roles. Due to his early training, his voice was accurate and the quality of it stunned his audiences. He built himself quite a repertoire through these small operas. He could never go see the big operas because of his financial state but being involved with the opera world he was aware of what opportunities were available at the larger opera houses. Chistophé had heard about Piangy at the Paris Opera House from other members of his company. He had been pessimistic because he knew that the Paris Opera House must have an understudy and he soon forgot about the opportunity. Soon after he discovered that the understudy, lead tenor, at the Paris Opera House had fallen ill and died. He had further heard that the managers were seeking a replacement. Chistophé took this chance to send his credentials in to be considered.

Now he was here, at the Paris Opera working with some of the most distinguished singers in France. He _was one _of the most distinguished singers in France. The company was now working on Genond's _Faust_ and was playingFaust himself. Christophé intended to become the opera's best tenor ever. He was quite fond of _Faust_ and he was more than thrilled to be playing opposite Madame de Chagny. He had heard Christine sing before and it simply blew him away. Aside from the fact that she was beautiful, Chistophé found he had a boyish infatuation with the Prima Donna. These feelings subsided quickly after he discovered that she was indeed married to the opera's largest patron. He would remain shy around her but enjoyed talking to her during rehearsals.

Christine, of course, noticed Chistophé's shyness around her and it pleased her somewhat. She liked Christophé as a friend and thought that he was a sweet man and a talented singer. Although everyone would debate that he was the best tenor in all of Europe, she would secretly disagree. Her Angel would be the best singer in all of Europe forever. She often dreamed of what would have happened to Erik had he not have been deformed. He would have clearly been a phenomenon among the entire world. She also thought that if he hadn't had to habit the depths of the opera house that she would never have been able to fulfill her dreams of being a Prima Donna. They may never have met. Erik had created her, re-created her, he had given her something that no one ever could. He had turned a shy, peasant girl who sang for money on the street into a Prima Donna at the Opera House in Paris. For this she was eternally in his debt. Chistophé's talent almost made her queasy because it reminded her of Erik, her angel's voice.

Rehearsal had been hard this particular day. Gevette was home with her nanny, Raoul was away on business, and Christine was at the Opera House. She was excited though because Moncharmin and Andre had granted her an early leave because they had their first performance of _Faust _tomorrow. It would be nice to spend much of her day with Gevette. She was growing so fast and Christine did not want to miss it.

Christine took a cab back to the de Chagny mansion and walked through the door. The first thing she noticed was the silence and almost emptiness that she felt. She assumed that Gevette was asleep and that the nanny was upstairs as well. As she began to slowly trudge up the stairs she called, "Madame Milline! Madame Milline!" When there was no answer she began to walk faster even heart racing as there continued to be silence. She was now running up the stairs, tripping over her long petticoats as she raced to the nursery. "Gevette! Gevette are you here?" Christine ran into the nursery. It looked unchanged. Gevette's toys were still neatly lined up across the room. Her changing table was spotless and her diapers were folded precisely. However, Gevette was not in her cradle. Christine called out again in extreme desperation. Then, behind the door she heard a sound. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard that it almost hurt. Christine looked behind the open door and saw Madame Lerone slouched against the door. She wasn't dead but she had a gash on her head that was gushing. Christine quickly grabbed one of Gevette's clean diapers and pressed it to Madame Milline's forehead. Madame Lerone stirred and began to murmur as in a daze.

"Madame Milline! Madame Milline, can you here me? Where is Gevette? What has happened?" Christine spoke so fast and her words seem get caught in her throat. Madame Milline opened her eyes and began to speak. Her words were so slurred and jumbled that Christine could not understand most of it.

"Madame….must…. Gevette…gone…must…stop them…" Madame Milline trailed off after this and lost consciousness.

Christine felt her face pale and for a moment she felt dizzy. Someone had taken her precious baby. Why would anyone want to steal an innocent baby girl? What did they want with her? Money? Was she going to be used for a ransom? All Christine knew was that Gevette was gone and she could not do anything to bring her back. Where was her Gevette? Who had her, and was she all right?

Erik made his way down the cool streets of Paris. He made sure that his cloak covered his entire body, more specifically his face. The cloak also concealed the small bundle that he had cradled in his safe arms. He tried to move quickly but inconspicuously. He needed to get back underground fast, before the baby started to cry. Right now she was asleep in his arms but he knew it wouldn't be for long. His plan had worked perfectly and now would come the challenging part. The part that he had no control over; the part he couldn't expect.

Eight months ago he swore to himself that he would rebuild his energy up and continue to live. He now had another purpose, another project if you, another reason to live. His home on the lake had been completely destroyed due to the flooding but as usual Erik was prepared for everything. The idea that something would happen to his world was no unexpected. Deeper into the depths of the Opera, far beyond his House on the Lake was unknown corridors. Well, unknown to everyone accept Erik. Those corridors were inaccessible to anyone accept him and maybe Garnier himself. It was the ideal place for him to begin to rebuild his world again.

It was more difficult to build up his new home than it was his first because when he built his first home he had had the advantage of being an architect on the site and building around his home. Now he would have to work as silently and as quickly as possible so as to remain undetected. Erik had tried to re-use as much of the ruble from the House on the Lake as he could. He was lucky that he still had the lake to his advantage at this new place. The depths of the opera house are so vast that he was able to do this. He had enough materials to begin construction of his new home. It wouldn't be as extensive as his first one but duable. He repaired as much furniture as he could but occasionally had to leave for supplies. He bought new curtains, rugs, sheets, and other accessories to furnish his new home. This work would usually come very easy to him because he was an architect but due to his weakened state it took him longer than usual. He eventually built up strength and regained his health. The only thing missing from his world was a new piano. He couldn't just go into the city and carry a piano back to the underground; it was hard enough to bring smaller things back without catching people's eye. What he ended up doing was using a cart he made and using one of his many trapdoors within in the opera to enter a music hall where the performers took lessons. He moved the piano at night when no one was there and didn't think people would notice. It was a risk, but one he considered necessary. Aside from the piano, everything else was in place in about eight and a half months.

The other half of the month he used to develop his "kidnapping" strategy. He didn't consider this a large challenge because he was very skilled at being sneaky and untraceable. He knew where the de Chagny mansion was (who didn't) and he decided that he should probably visit there to figure out what he had to work with. One night he took a cab to the outskirts of the mansion and walked the rest of the way. This was at night of course and he was dressed in his normal black outing attire. He sneaked around the mansion trying his hardest not to be tempting to spy on Christine. Erik knew that if he so much as laid a glance upon her that he would break down. He knew he needed to be strong about this and was determined to follow through with it.

After he had surveyed the mansion, he drew out his plan. His plan was as simple as enter the de Chagny grounds undetected, sneak into the house through a window or door, get the nanny out of the way without having her see him at all, and then take the baby. Sneaking onto the grounds was easy because he did it when he knew Christine had a rehearsal. He knew that Raoul wouldn't be there because of his work so that kept both of them out of the picture. He knew that they had a nanny because he had seen her there when he surveyed the mansion. Erik had figured out where the nursery was and knew that his best bet was to break in through the front door and take the back steps. After he was on the second floor he approached the nanny from behind and knocked her out using the handle of his sword. He had then slipped Gevette into his arms while she was asleep and left.

Now that he and Gevette were safe in his domain he wasn't sure what to do next. He knew some thing about babies but not a lot. He of course had diapers and toys and a cradle. When he had looked through the ruble he had discovered that the cradle he had was still in tact. This cradle had been his as a baby and when his mother passed away it was something she had left him. It brought back some bad memories of his childhood that he tried to forget but now he intended to have the cradle bring him happy memories.

Gevette was in the cradle looking up at him with a peaceful look on her face. It surprised him. She wasn't afraid of him at all. He wondered. Erik then took off his mask and looked at the baby. She hadn't changed a bit. She didn't cry or scream or anything. Erik smiled and almost cried. His daughter didn't care about his face. He came close to her and tickled her. She made such a sweet sound when she laughed. He loved it. Erik loved everything about his daughter. What made him even happier was that his daughter was _beautiful_. Not only did she not have his face but also she was _gorgeous_. Erik had never seen many babies but he didn't think it possible that a baby could be as beautiful. She had those icy blue eyes, petit features, and auburn hair. In this way she was just like him; she had gotten those blue eyes and red hair from him.

Erik figured that she might be hungry so he gave her some warmed milk. He made sure it wasn't too hot and feed her. She seemed happy to be fed and Erik felt so complete. Now he had something to look forward too. He had a reason to wake up. He had someone who would love him and who he would love. His daughter would never regard him with fear and he would teach here everything he knew. Erik gazed down at his content baby and knew that, besides Christine, he had never felt such love. Looking at her happiness made him realize that things would work out.

Suddenly, he realized that he didn't know her name. He was sure that Christine had given her one but he didn't know what it was. Well, whatever the name was it was gone forever. She was beginning a new life with her real father. Erik tried to think of a name that would suite her. The singing from above caught his attention and he began to listen. The company was rehearsing _Faust_, well the chorus was. Of course, the leads weren't there; they were at home resting up for tomorrow's performance. Then he remembered that Christine's first major role in opera was the role of Maurgarite in _Faust_. Maurgarite… it was perfect. Erik watched his daughter eat and he thought, "_Maurgarite Duquesne, you're my own flesh and blood and I will make sure that you have the happiest life ever. I give you my name and my love and a promise that we have so much ahead of us._"

Erik never in a million years imagined that time could ever travel so fast. His life had always seemed to drag and last forever. Caring for Maurgarite occupied his every minute. From the time she was a tiny baby to now he had done everything in his power to make sure she grew up right. He had to admit that she had turned into a fine young lady. She was now thirteen and was his angel.

Maurgarite had long auburn hair that was as thick and as curly as Christine's. Her eyes were as icy blue as they were when she was born. She was thin and short and was just beginning to get a figure. Maurgarite was blessed with some of Erik's musical and intellectual talents. She loved to read and paint. Erik had taught her everything he knew. When it came to music she was nothing less than astounding. She had Christine and Erik's combined talents. Her voice was pure, beautiful, and natural. She had been instructed well. Erik had taught her to sing she could speak. Some of his fondest memories were of singing with her.

Erik's train of thought was interrupted by shrieking coming from Maurgarite's bedchamber. Erik panicked and rushed to her chamber his heart pounding the whole time. He prayed to God that she was all right. When he entered her chamber he saw Maurgarite sprawled on the floor rubbing her ankle. He sighed in relief that she was okay.

"Ohh," Maurgarite groaned, "Papa, my ankle it hurts. I fell…" A solitary tear dripped down her cheek. Erik knelt down to comfort her. He then went to examine her ankle. It wasn't anything serious but it looked puffy.

He smiled at her, "Maurgarite, what were you doing that you would hurt your ankle. Your screams are so piercing my child. You'll damage your beautiful voice if you continue to do so." She made a face and then got up to sit on her bed. She looked up at Erik with those icy eyes and she had a troubled look on her face. It was obvious that something was bothering her aside from her ankle. "Maurgarite, is everything ok?"

"Papa, I… I have some things to ask you?" She looked uncomfortable and she spoke softly.

Erik sighed; he was _not _ready to have this conversation at _all_. He took a deep breath, "Yes, I think I know what you mean."

Maurgarite blushed and began to laugh uncontrollably, "Oh no Papa, not that. Gracious, you look dreadful." AS she laughed Erik couldn't help but laugh with her. He must have looked awfully nervous. He felt somewhat relieved but there was still something important that she needed to ask. "I want to know more about my mother and other things like that. My past and my future is such a mystery. I know you love me with all your heart but I'm growing up and I know so little about myself and the world around me."

This conversation would be even harder. "_What am I going to tell her?_" thought Erik desperately. "Maurgarite… I…" he couldn't seem to find the right words. They'd never spoken much about Christine. He had always told Maurgarite that she went away and that she wouldn't come back, which was partly true. Christine had left him, but not her. How could he tell Maurgarite that he'd stolen her and other things? She wouldn't understand any of them. "_Perhaps she will_." He thought.

"Papa, you're trembling, are you all right?" Maurgarite asked with concern in her voice.

"No I'm fine. It's just… some of this isn't easy to say. I need to go get some things to show you." Erik dashed from her room into his to get her a few lost trinkets. He took a deep breath and walked back into her chamber wearing something he'd been without for so long. Maurgarite looked confused and almost like she was trying not to laugh.

"Papa, why are you wearing that mask? I don't understand…"

"Well darling, this mask and I used to be inseparable. I wore it all the time because if I didn't people would stare, or laugh, or run away. They'd run from my face without even knowing me. My face is not like yours you must know and it's not like anyone else's; it's grotesque and it is why I live down here. It's why…" he paused and tried to regain himself but he felt like weeping. "It's why you're down here too… you don't belong down here with me, you belong up in the light. You belong singing on the stage and doing something with your life and I'm afraid I've held you back." Erik collapsed on her bed and put his face in his hands. Maurgarite put her hand on his shoulder.

"Papa…" she said softly, "I love you so much and it doesn't matter where I am as long as I'm with you. You are my entire world and I could not live without you." She hugged him tightly and he felt joy again. The guilt did not go away but he was relieved for the time being.

He gently brushed away her embrace. "I'm afraid there's more my dear. Much more than my face or the mask or the darkness. I have a story to tell you. It's about your mother and me. Many years ago, I had been living down here under the opera house for some time. One day I heard someone crying, your mother…" Maurgarite listened intently and her gaze never left his eyes. Through out the entire story she remained silent and unmoved. He told her about Christine, her angel, the phantom, the mask, the Viscomte, the chandelier, everything. The final thing he told her was about how come she was living with him. "You see, your mother never knew that I was alive. I doubt she knows even now. No one knows and you see why that's the safest. I must confess… I did in a way take you away from Christine and Raoul. You must understand that I only did so because I wanted to be a part of your life; I wanted you to be a part of my life. Maurgarite, you have grown up so wonderful and I am so happy to have had you in my life for this long. Now, you are almost a young woman and will be free to do what you please. I give you the choice to leave me now, I would understand if you did. I hope you can someday forgive what I have done…" Erik's speech trailed; he couldn't speak anymore. His story was so painful to tell her. He longed to know what she was thinking.

Maurgarite was silent for a time and then she spoke, "Papa I have told you that you are my entire world. I love you more than anyone. I would never abandon you because although you took me from my mother I know why you did it. No one could love me more than you, I'm sure of that. However, I would like to see my mother; I'd like to meet her." Her eyes shown boldly and her heart was very much in what she was saying. Erik knew with a dread that he could not deny her request. He would have to bring her to Christine.

"It is settled. We will go see Christine… your mother, together. I won't let you go alone."

Maurgarite's eyes sparkled like diamonds, "Thank you Papa!" she clung to Erik's shoulder and dampened his jacket. He knew this would be a hard time. How could he face her again? He had run from this for so long; he didn't think he could bare it. Seeing them together, seeing her beautiful face, knowing what he'd lost. These thoughts were pushed from his mind as he embraced his daughter. He would do it for her if nothing else. There was nothing else.

"You've said your goodbye, now leave me, leave me! I have no need of your pity." _Erik stood up, shaking and wavering; he walked over to a mirror near the back of the chamber and pounded it will his fists. Tears landed on his lacerated hands. Beautiful hands, long, slender…now covered in blood. Then he collapsed to the floor, his face buried in his hands and arms. In his rage his mask has fallen off his face. Even the sound of his weeping was somehow beautiful. Christine found she could not weep, she couldn't. Carefully, she made her way towards him, meandering around the shards of glass. She knew, she felt, every part of her was aching to comfort him. At the same time, she wanted nothing more for him to hold her, for her to feel safe in his embrace. She knelt down and cautiously put her hand on his shoulder. Almost as a reflex, she felt his whole body jerk. This man had never known touch, the comfort or pleasure in it. He had lived with out love; she cringed at the idea. She had pity but more feeling for him._

"No! Don't look at me!" _Erik tried to cover his face, but Christine grabbed his hands. He tried to turn away from her but he gave up due to his weakness. He looked at her and started into her eyes for a moment. His sunken eyes were moist and contained so much agony. Those blue eyes…He looked at her with shame and helplessness. After a moment, he could not look at her anymore. She took her hand, which shook with uncertainty, and gently caressed his right cheek. She wiped away his tears; his skin was rough but no longer disgusted her. He shivered at her touch, and his tears continued to flow. She felt his desire, but she knew he would never touch her. He was too afraid, he'd never touched her. Then without looking up, Erik timidly put his hand on her hand. His hand was like ice and her hand tingled as his closed his hand gently around hers. She saw the fear in him and smiled… Erik looked up at her and gave her a sad smile. Suddenly he cringed in pain and she remembered the cuts on his hands. _

"Oh Angel… I'm sorry… I forgot…" _Christine bit her lip, and noticed her was still looking at her. He hadn't cried out or anything when she had hurt him._

"Christine, you're so beautiful… and…" _Erik couldn't say anymore. Without warning, Christine leaned forward and kissed him. At first she felt his shock and then as they plunged into the kiss, Erik's eyes close and he kissed her back. Christine felt a surge of energy and passion flow into her. She found Erik pleasing to kiss; although he was unsure and inexperienced she couldn't help but notice how wonderful it was. Then the kiss ended… they were smiling… Erik was smiling… he was so handsome when he smiled…_

Christine felt someone shaking her, her eyes opened in shock and saw her maid shaking her. Christine rubbed her eyes and attempting to quickly recover from her dream. Such visions, so vivid, however, they were more than visions. She would dream of her past and her angel. They were the strongest of dreams, so strong that some nights she would awake weeping. She'd had these dreams for years, ever since she had be pregnant with Gevette.

Christine's heart ached at the thought of Gevette. After her daughter's mysterious disappearance her life had gone downhill. She'd told Raoul about Gevette's father and he had divorced her. They'd fought since Gevette's disappearance and she had blurted the truth to him when he had accused her of loosing "his child." Now she was on her own, not living uncomfortably but very much alone. She thought about Gevette often, it made her sad but somehow comforted her. She often wondered if Gevette was alive somewhere and would come home. Her beautiful baby…her memory of times past.

Times had been pretty good to Christine, thirteen years and she had not one gray hair. Her eyes looked weary although she had no wrinkles. She continued to sing at the opera and now lived in her own house outside of Paris. She could support herself and, oddly enough, was not upset to see Raoul leave. She remained alone however, and sometimes she would cry at night. Christine could not bear to be alone knowing all she might have had and what she'd lost. What she'd lost…

She suddenly heard a rapping at the door which made her loose her train of thought. She looked at the clock and realized that it was fairly late. "_Who on earth could be calling me at this hour?_" She cautiously moved towards the door. Her slippers made virtually no sound as she tiptoed over. Her nightgown made a swishy sound with each step. She felt cold as she neared the door but did not see the point in putting a robe on. Her hand turned the brass handle. It was so dark she couldn't see the person at her door, at first. Her expression changed to one of shock with the sudden recognition of the figure at her door. Blackness turned to darkness as she collapsed on the floor.

Christine slowly opened her eyes. Her vision felt blurred and she had a slight headache. She noticed that she had a cool cloth on her head and was propped on her sofa. She realized she could her voices and could not tell whether she was dreaming them. They were quiet, whispering voices, like willows. One was that of a man, and the other was a young girl's voice. The man's voice was smooth and soothing, she liked it. She couldn't remember hearing a voice like that before…could she? Yes! She could, she tried to get up and see but she was overcome by dizziness and found that she could not. She was helpless; all she could do was whisper. She tried to scream but she couldn't. Her lips managed to emerge a few words, "Erik… how…" The words choked in her throat. Her vision was getting better and she saw, as she had seen in her dreams a thousand times, the figure of a man. It was Erik.

Her heart felt like it would burst and her mind was exploding with questions. All she could feel now was an angry shock. How could he be alive? How could he do this to her? Showing up after all of these years, did he realize the pain he'd caused her? She found she couldn't speak. She stared at him. He looked exactly the same; the years had done nothing to him. Although, she could not see with his mask on. He gracefully walked towards her and sat beside her. He removed the cloth and put his hand on her forehead. His hands chilled her but his touch warmed her. He was not afraid to touch her. He finally spoke,

"You seem to be alright, you're consciousness is good. I was worried about you for a minute; you hit your head pretty hard." Christine felt pain on her head and nodded. She tried to say something but he stopped her, "Don't try to speak, you are still weak. I'll see if a little rest will give you strength back. There are things to say, however you are in no condition to hear them." He stood up and Christine raised her arm and pointed to the upstairs bedroom. She did not want him to leave her again. Erik seemed to understand her gesture and said, "I was not planning on leaving you like this." Before she could protest he picked her up and started to carry her up the stairs. He was strong and had no trouble lifting her. Christine felt content in his arms but pushed those feelings to the back of her mind and blamed her dazed state for thinking such things. Erik seemed to know his way around and placed Christine on her bed. If she had not been too tired she'd have said thank you, but as soon as her head hit her pillow she drifted away.

Sudden brightness hit Christine's eyes like a flash. Her opened her eyes and discovered her curtains had not been drawn. Then last night's events flooded back to her. With as much speed as possible she wriggled out of her nightgown and into a plain, comfortable dress. She felt much better and with as much dignity as possible ran downstairs. Ignoring her wild curls that she hadn't bothered to pin up, she walked into the parlor. Erik was sitting at her piano playing away and almost seemed oblivious of her arrival. In her rush she had not heard his music and now was caught up in its familiar beauty. When he looked up and saw her, he seemed embarrassed and stopped playing.

"I..do apologize I cannot seem to help myself," he got up and moved towards her, "it is a beautiful instrument." He could not look her in the eye. "Perhaps, we could sit in here and… talk?" It was not like him to have a nervous disposition. Every moment he made reflected his feelings. She sat down on the sofa and he sat down next to her which was considerably distant. They say in silence and finally Christine opened up the conversation.

"Thank you for what you did last night, I appreciate it."

"It was nothing; I should apologize for coming to see you so unexpectedly… I understand your shock. I did not think about that although I should have," he stopped and looked at her, "however, there was a reason I came to see you." Christine looked at him, and saw the fear return. There was something he was avoiding. She waited patiently.

"Whatever it is, please tell me, I…" she paused, "I have some things I need to tell you too. She realized that she should tell him about Raoul and. Her thoughts scrambled together. She had to tell him about his child. Now she was ashamed, how could she tell him that he had a child who wasn't there? How could she tell him she had lost his child? She knew he would never be able to imagine having a child. She wanted to tell him about the beautiful baby they had created, how she looked like him, how she'd lost her. She had to tell him. "I have to tell you first. It's important. There is something you don't know."

Erik looked intently at her. She took a deep breath, "Thirteen years ago, Raoul and I we, we split." His expression remained unchanged. "We fought all the time we had no love left. It is mostly because…I had a child. It was not the fact that I had a child, but she… the baby, was taken from us. We never found her. If she had not been taken, well, it was then that I realized I couldn't hide from him the truth. I had to tell him. Erik, that child, that baby girl whom was taken from me, she was your child…" she could not look at his face, but the silence indicated that he was thinking. "I thought you were dead…but I knew it was yours, oh but Erik she was the most beautiful baby. I wish…" she felt warm tears filling her eyes, "I wish you could have seen, it would be amazed you."

Erik was silent; he did not look angry or amazed, or anything. He looked ashamed. He sighed and said, "I know."

Christine stopped crying. This she had not predicted, "What? Erik I don't understand you?"

"Christine, I…I knew you had a baby. I knew it was my baby. When I woke up from…when I was better, and stronger, I heard about it. I remembered things, and I knew. I also know she was taken from you and I know who took her."

Christine's heart stopped and she felt a wave of dizziness overcome her. She fought the urge to faint and asked him, "Who took her? How do you know?"

He remained calm and composed, "Christine, I'm the one. I'm the one who took her." Erik quickly stood up and began to pace around. He put his hand on the wall near the fireplace and leaned his head on the wall. "I wouldn't blame you if you threw me out and never let me see her again. I feel so lucky to have spent any time with her and she deserves to grow up normally with you. I'll leave."

As he began to walk out Christine got up and grabbed his hand. He stopped and turned around. He looked defeated and hurt, and tried to turn his head away. Christine squeezed his hand in a friendly way. "Erik…I don't know how to feel right now. I'm so happy that my child is not hurt and I can see her again. However, but taking her, you hurt me so much. I don't know if I can forgive you for that. Perhaps, I could see her?" Christine looked anxiously at Erik. He nodded and trudged up the stairs. As she waited, she heard mild whispering upstairs, much like what she heard last night. It was hard to believe that Erik had taken care of her daughter all these years. Christine wondered what she would be like. Soon, Erik walked slowly back down the stairs.

"She has just woken up and wanted to get dressed before you saw her."

Christine smiled impatiently and Erik got that boyish twinkle in his eye that indicated his amusement. All these years waiting, a few more minutes wouldn't kill her. In no time at all, Christine saw a young girl nervously walking down the stairs. She looked apprehensive but not scared. She moved just like Erik with the same graceful poise. The girl was fairly tall and quite thin. She was wearing an emerald green dress and some of her hair was pulled back leaving the rest loose. It was the same beautiful auburn that Christine remembered. She smiled at how curly it what, it was a red version of her own hair. As she got closer, Christine couldn't help but stare at her daughter's face; it was absolutely flawless. What puzzled her the most was that her daughter's face resembled nothing of her. Without his disfigurement, Erik would have undoubtedly been an irresistibly attractive man. Christine had never seen a picture of Erik's mother or father but they must have been beautiful people to have a granddaughter like that. When the girl got downstairs, she seemed uncomfortable and stayed close to Erik.

Erik seemed a little embarrassed and gently nudged his daughter out him behind him. "Maurgarite, this is your mother, Christine." He gave her an encouraging smile. She looked at Christine and then back at Erik. There was something clearly on her mind for she looked up at Erik with impatience. He obviously understood for he shook his head and pushed her towards Christine.

"_Maurgarite_…" Christine thought, "_I suppose he didn't know I named her Gevette. Well, no matter Maurgarite is a nice name and my first part_." She smiled at the realization that Erik had probably chosen the name for that reason. Christine held out her hand, "Maurgarite, I am so happy to finally see you. I suppose you wouldn't remember me but I hope we can get to know each other again." Maurgarite eyed Christine's hand and murmured something inaudible. Christine looked at Erik who was saying something to Maurgarite using his ventriloquism skills.

"Erik, what's going on between you two?" Christine said slightly annoyed.

"Absolutely nothing," said Erik, "Maurgarite that's quite enough you're behaving atrociously."

Suddenly Maurgarite burst out, "Papa, I can't take it anymore! This is so unfair!" and before anyone could stop her she ripped off Erik's mask with a tantrum like fury comparable to Erik in times of rage. "You shouldn't have to wear it; I hate it when you wear it! It frightens me!" Maurgarite ran upstairs crying and ran into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Christine felt sick to her stomach although slightly amused by the irony of it all. Little Maurgarite was afraid of her father when he _wore_ the mask. Erik grabbed Christine's hand,

"I can't begin to express my apologies. I've never seen her act this way, and she wanted so much to meet you…I suppose…I suppose I should have worn the mask from the start. She never cared about my face or beauty or anything. It's such a beautiful thing, the love of a child. Children do not know what people are supposed to look like, they only know love." He trailed off and stood silent for a moment. He sighed and walked slowly to where Maurgarite had flung is mask. Before he could put it on Christine said,

"No," Erik looked surprised but she continued, "I don't care about your face, I grew up Erik. That night…" Christine blushed. "That night I stopped caring about your flaws and concentrated on all of the wonderful things about you. Maurgarite is smarter than all of us. She can see your true beauty. In my presence, you need not wear a mask." Christine grinned mischievously, "Besides Monsieur, how do I know that you aren't making faces at me under there." Erik's eyes twinkled and he began to laugh. His laughter was one of the loveliest sounds. Its sound reverberated around the room creating a joyous atmosphere.

"Oh Christine you are exactly as I remember." Erik said still smiling, "I'm so happy to see you again. Just give Maurgarite some time; soon she'll love you as much as I…as much as a daughter should love her mother." Erik quickly walked back to the piano and began to play something. Christine left the room to begin making breakfast. As she was preparing the food she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Christine puts her ear to the kitchen door to see if she could hear any conversation.

"Father…I'm sorry I behaved so badly. I'm afraid I could not help but feel, uncomfortable. I hate having you wear that ugly mask. And I hate that my mother makes you where it, I don't think it's fair."

"Maurgarite, I understand how you feel but you are so used to seeing me without it. My face frightens those who do not understand it or who are not used to it. Christine has told me that I should not wear the mask for her benefit so I will not be wearing it while I am here."

"Oh Papa, that makes me so happy! Where is she?"

"I am not sure but I have a feeling she will return soon. Would you like it if we worked on your song while we waited for her; it has been some time since you have practiced."

"Oh yes Papa, I would like that very much!"

As Erik began to play, Christine heard her daughter sing. Her voice was like nothing she could describe, it was perfect. It was flawless like Erik's voice only it was a beautiful soprano tone. The notes were perfect and her range was unbelievable for a thirteen year old. It was like crystal. Despite its beauty, her voice did not have the power behind it that Erik's had. Erik's voice had that soft, seductive edge to it and could bring any woman to tears.

Christine finished preparing the morning meal while listening to a repertoire of songs her daughter sang. After a couple pieces, Maurgarite stopped singing.

"Father, you said Christine was the prima donna of the Paris Opera?"

"Yes my dear."

"How old does one have to be to star in an opera?"

"I would assume you'd have to be a little bit older than you are, perhaps sixteen. Most sixteen year olds would be lucky to fetch water for the lead stars, but you…you have such an amazing voice Maurgarite, you may be able to star right away."

"I don't know if I want to be on the stage, I have so many things that intrigue me."

"You're just like I was at your age. I wanted to do everything, certain things limited me from doing some of them, such as singing…I love many things."

At this point Christine walked back into the parlor to announce that breakfast was ready. Maurgarite wouldn't look her in the eye. Christine led them into the dining room and they all sat down and ate. Maurgarite still wouldn't look her in the eye. Christine hoped that they'd be able to talk together and be the kind of mother and daughter she'd always envisioned.

_It was all real; nothing he'd believed was untrue. She'd just kissed him, really and truly. It was not a kiss of pity but passion. He had never kissed a woman before, not even his own mother. She would not let him. Now one of the most beautiful women in the world had embraced him without fear or disgust. For the first time in his life he was unmasked for all the world to see and he didn't care. She didn't care; she could see his face and look at it in love. He could touch her and look at her and she would not pull away._

_He felt the head on his forehead and the coolness of his hands. He was very ill and if he didn't make himself a potion he could die. Right now, all Erik wanted was to stay and look at Christine, to savor their moments together. The truth of the matter was that he could never have her, she deserved better and she could not live with him in this dark sewer. He would not let her give up her life for him, promise of no promise. Now he knew that she loved him and that's all he needed. Although the knowledge that she would not leave him like his burned in his mind, he knew he had to let her go. He had a plan._

"Christine, I am dying. I cannot safe myself, you must leave me die in peace. There is nothing to be done but wait…and I refuse to have you here. You can't stay here while I die. Give me nothing else but peace…and when I die…" _he could not finish. He hated lying to her but nothing else would drag her away._

"Damn you Erik…I'm not going anywhere! You cannot sit there and die and expect me to just walk away from you!" _Christine flung herself at him and pounded her fists on his chest. "_You cannot die, you cannot die…" _her tears crushed him inside. She eventually gave up and lay limp on top of him weeping bitterly. Erik smoothed her hair out and sighed. This would be one of the harder things he ever had to do._

_Christine stopped crying and looked up right into his eyes. She was piercing his eyes with sadness. They were so inviting her eyes…one thing he wished more than anything before he died…something no one would ever give him…something he would never dream of ever…_

Erik woke up with sweat on his brow. The same dream, every night the same dream. It always ended at the same spot too. He sighed and put on his night coat, he needed to walk around and think. Things had been so confusing these last few days, seeing Christine again…his emotions deceived him. His footsteps down the stairs were especially quiet and he took extra care not to wake anyone up. The piano bench looked so inviting and he complied with his yearnings to play something.

His fingers flowed over the keys playing a lullaby that was so fluid and beautiful that even if anyone did wake up they'd surely fall back asleep. Erik always got lost in his music when he played, the sounds, the tones, the chords; it all swirled around him and made there our colors. Music was nothing but sound with color and emotion. Erik had so much emotion and with every note he sang or played ever one of his emotions spilled out and mixed together to form complete genius.

"_The beauty of it all_," he thought as his mind warped into music, "_crescendo, beautiful a flat, now transposed down a fourth to…slippers_?" Erik stopped and saw Christine staring at him from the stairs. Her hair was all in disarray and she was shivering due to the freezing temperature of the parlor. Erik didn't know how she could just when a linen nightgown in the winter. She walked towards him and he took off his night coat and draped it around her shoulders.

"Thank you Erik, it gets fairly cold down here at night. Why are you up so late?"

"I…I couldn't sleep so I didn't think anyone would mind if I amused myself for awhile by playing. I didn't think anyone would wake up."

Christine smiled, "I couldn't sleep either, and I haven't slept well in awhile, dreams and such."

"The same thing has been happening to me."

They looked at each other and said almost simultaneously, "That night…" and Christine blushed and looked at her feet.

"Yes," she said, "I dream about that night all the time, but it always ends…"

"Yes it does," Erik filled in, "Funny isn't it how dreams work."

Christine walked towards him, "Yes, it is funny." She walked up until he could smell he faded perfume. She leaned up towards him and brushed his cheek with her lips. Erik wrapped his arms around her and sighed at the final contact he'd been dreaming about since he woke up. Christine nuzzled her head on his shoulder and whispered, "I've missed you so much." Erik buried his nose in her hair and inhaled; her hair smelled so wonderful. He kissed her hair and held her so tight as if this gesture was to imply that he would never let her slip away from him again.

That next morning, Christine awoke with a stream of sunlight across her eyes and a suspicion that today would be a lovely day. Despite this agreeable assumption, she could not deny that she would rather stay in bed all day watching the day pass. As she stretched and sat up in bed her gaze rested upon the man who laid next to her on this fine morning. His face was aglow with sunlight and a look of nothing less than contentment. Ever since Erik's assumed death, Christine had dreamt of nothing else but to touch him just one more time. Over the years she had learned to live with her guilt and knowledge that she had killed him and lost their daughter. It was this wretchedness that drove Raoul away.

It was not long before Erik stirred beneath the sheets and tentatively opened his eyes. He sat up slowly and when his eyes met Christine's the look that he gave her cannot be described by any word currently in existence. It was a looked of fulfillment, peace, and pure love. Christine could never put from her mind the love that Erik felt for her. The times he had sang to her she was aware of a deep restraint within him. He would never touch her. She had to confess that there were a number of times when she longed for his arms to be around her.

Now at last they were together, as they always should have been. Christine smiled; she had grown up long ago from a selfish child to a passionate woman. Gaily she sighed and laid her head upon Erik's chest. Her eyes began to dreamily shut as Erik stroked her hair with his hand. His touch was tender and comforting; she did not think she would be able to find the motivation to leave his side. The sun's light gave the room a magical glow and warmth.

Just as Christine was beginning to felt complete delight she heard a shill screaming from downstairs. She immediately sat up as she heard cries of Maurgarite in the parlor.

"Papa! Papa! Where are you? Are you not coming down for breakfast?"

The moment was slightly shattered and Erik sighed and got out of bed. The sun shone upon his figure and Christine could not help but blush at his muscular physique which unlike his face reflected beauty. However, now she was completely devoid to any deformity on his face. His face was not frightening at all, nor did it reflect his beautiful soul. There was no reason to judge or fear it. Quickly and elegantly he moved out of the room to put on his clothing and wash up. Christine exhaled and unhappily stood up and began to collect her scattered clothing.

In what seemed like a brief moment, Erik was dressed and off to meet Maurgarite downstairs. Christine decided to take her time in getting ready so that Erik could have some time alone with Maurgarite. She assumed that he intended to tell their daughter of their current renaissance of life together. Worry struck her thoughts as visions of her daughter's current distaste of her mother lingered in her mind. Christine hoped that Erik would be able to alleviate the tensions between mother and daughter. Christine couldn't help but be a tiny bit jealous of Erik's affections for Maurgarite and the number of years that she had spent in Erik's care.

Christine slipped on her chemise and petticoats followed by a beautiful blue day dress which she knew Erik loved and which she felt matched the occasion of a beautiful clear day. She took her time pinning her hair up to perfection, making sure it did not look too mature. At last she powdered her nose and headed downstairs. She tried her best not to look too excited and slowed her pace down the stairs. In a way she was nervous. How could she act around Erik when Maurgarite was around? Could they show affection in front of her? What would happen? When she had arrived at the last step she did not see Erik and Maurgarite in the parlor. She briskly entered the dining room to see Erik busy consuming a meal. He glanced up from his food and gave Christine a warm smile. Maurgarite was sitting next to him watching him eat. She had noticed Christine before Erik or at least made it known that she noticed her. Maurgarite's expression was difficult to decipher.

"Good morning Maurgarite," Christine said with detectable cheerfulness.

Maurgarite bowed her head, "Good Morning Mademoiselle." The formality of her address hurt Christine. Maurgarite turned and collected Erik's dishes and headed off to the kitchen. As she was leaning over to grab his plate he gently grasped her hand. She looked sad but quickly replaced her frown with a half-hearted smile. Christine knew how difficult it was for Maurgarite; Christine never knew her mother either.

When Maurgarite left, Christine sat down next to Erik. He looked troubled but his expression softened when Christine touched his hand. He sighed,

"I wish I knew what troubled her so Christine, I thought that by granting her wish to see you that she…she would be happy again. Now she aches again, and I cannot tell for what." His hand fell into his hands and Christine whispered to him,

"Do not fear my love, perhaps it is nothing that you fear. Perhaps, she just needs to spend some time with me. Do not worry, you have done nothing wrong." He glanced up just as Maurgarite entered the room. I took this moment of silence to say what was on my mind.

"Maurgarite, I know that we have gotten off to a rather bad start you and me." I tried to detect emotion in her but her deadpan expression revealed nothing. "I thought perhaps we might take a walk in the gardens, perhaps even if you do not enjoy my company nor what I wish to talk with you about, you may at least enjoy the beautiful weather." I noted that she glanced at Erik and then to my pleasant surprised unhooked her apron and walking timidly toward me.

I let her walk ahead of me and winked at Erik. He smiled and silently shooed me off to the gardens. The weather was just as beautiful as it had been this morning. The sky was bluer than I could ever remember it being and there were no longer clouds in the sky. I lifted my head to the sun and breathed in its warm scent. Late spring always held such a wonderful aroma of soil and new flowers. I was very proud of my garden; it had taken much work to make it as beautiful as it was. Whenever I felt sad in years past I would sit out in my garden and weed or just sit and admire the beautiful buds that were blooming. This garden had become a place of comfort and showing it to my daughter was like giving her entrance into my thoughts. Each flower represented one of my thoughts. The tulips were beginning to die but the irises and azaleas were in full bloom. Now my roses began to bloom, my beautiful roses of red, pink, yellow, and orange all in bloom. The roses are by far my favorite, although I am rather fond of the irises too. I have so many varieties of irises and roses; they blanket almost my entire garden. I find the butterflies are as taken with my flowers as I am. There are also many trees in my garden which border the flower beds. In the middle of the stone walkway are a stone bench and a small fountain. It is on this bench that I often have sat pondering.

Maurgarite seems enchanted by the flowers; she gazes around the garden and then sits down upon the bench. I cautiously sit down next to her. After a moment of silence she speaks. "I never knew a place outside could be so magical. I have never known the outside and I find it so beautiful. These flowers I have all seen in books but seeing them, smelling them, in real life stirs my senses."

"Yes, the do have a rather large effect on people," I replied, "Especially women, I know personally I find them comforting in their beauty and tranquility."

She looked over at me, "Yes, that's it exactly! But not completely it," her tone turned sullen, "perhaps if you had never seen a flower before now, you would understand my feelings more." She looked around as if avoiding my eyes.

"You do not resent your father do you Maurgarite?" I waited to see how she would answer my delicate question.

"No…I, I don't know what I feel. I love him more than anything in the world and yet…" Tears began to fight their way down her face but she was stubborn and did not allow them to go far. "I just wish that…Why did you leave him!" She was not fighting the tears in her anger. She stood up and looked at me accusingly, "You left him alone, alone, while he was DYING! Perhaps had you come back and helped, we… he…I could have known a more filled life of outdoor beauties! I do not regret that I have lived with him, but all those years…all those years it became evident to me that he was hiding something, hiding feelings from me! He was sad, despite how he appeared I could tell! It was your fault! And to think…" She stopped suddenly as if she was afraid to say something.

"What finish your sentence," I replied with more coolness than I intended.

My tone of voice seemed to give her courage to finish, "I just cannot fathom how you would have passed me off as, Gevette de Chagny, daughter of Count and _Countess _de Chagny." With that remark she ran off into the gardens. I sat on the bench and felt the collar of my dress become damp with my warm tears. I knew she was right and although she had just hit me with every one of my mistakes in life, it felt like she had plunged a knife into my heart. My own daughter despised me, how could I have let that happened? All I wanted was for her to love me, for Erik to love me; I wanted to have a true family.

I hurried off after my daughter, there were things I needed to say and things that I needed to hear. I rushed off through the boxes of roses and irises and at least I saw her sitting on the edge of the garden wiping tears off her face. The wind pulled at her long auburn hair and washed away the tears for her. Suddenly she saw me and began to run off when I yelled, "Wait, do not run away from me! Have the courage to talk to me, there is much to say!"

She stopped and replied, "I am not afraid!" Maurgarite trudged her way over to me with clear irritation. Her manner made me smile; she was exactly like Erik. She had the same pride and temper as he did. Maurgarite noticed my quick smile and scowled, "Why are you laughing at me?"

"I am not laughing at you; I smiled at you because you remind me of your father. That is all."

"What do you know of my father or me," she retorted.

I was growing impatient with this attitude, "Why did you want to come see me and get to know me? You clearly have no interest in what I have to say. All I want is for us to be close like a mother and daughter should be and instead you insist on insulting me and accusing me of things for which I can provide neither response nor explanation!" This speech shut her up for a moment and I continued, "Now, are there things you wish to know or not?"

Maurgarite nodded looking slightly ashamed. Yes, she was her father's child. She looked up and spoke softly, "Tell me about…how you and my father met."

I gave her a half grin. "Well," I began, "I used to be a chorus girl at the Paris Opera House. I was a ballet dancer, and not a very good one I might add. My father and I used to travel around when I was a child. He played the violin and I sang. It was our combined dream that I would sing at the opera someday. Unfortunately, I was at the opera for dancing and I had a very weak and untrained voice…"

"And then you met father?"

"Well, one day I was in the auditorium with my friend Meg. Being silly chorus girls we had our fun little superstitions, one being about the Phantom of the Opera. The Phantom of the Opera was the ghost who roamed the opera house causing destruction and scaring us. Well, Meg told me to sing for the Opera Ghost and…I did, and Erik…your father said he heard me. The next thing I knew, I was receiving voice lessons from the 'Angel of Music…'" I continued on at poured my heart out, leaving out unnecessary details. I told her of my voice lessons, the angel of music, and Erik's face. Maurgarite listened intently not interrupting. I finally ended the story where I left the underground with Raoul.

"Mother…I don't understand…" Maurgarite whispered.

The shock of her calling me Mother blocked my thoughts for a minute. I thought carefully, "Oh Maurgarite, I wish I knew. Sometimes in life, people make mistakes, _especially_ when they are young. I was young, unsure, and afraid. The feelings I had for your father were not revealed to me right away. Raoul was an easy distraction from them. But when I left and realized that your father was 'dead' I knew how much I did care for him. Then…" I stopped and gave my beautiful daughter a smile, "then I realized that I was going to have a baby and I was so happy. It would be Erik and my baby, no matter what last name I gave you. However, then Erik came and claimed you, gave you his name and left my alone." I paused and looked down. "I know why he took you, but having lost him and then you, I could not bear it. My life was unhappy from that moment on and I lost Raoul too. Life started again for me, and then you both came to see me. Life has thrown me so many curves."

"Wow, I had no idea…well I guess it is safe to say that things have been hard for both of you in different ways. Frankly, I am amazed I _was _born. You, father and your mixed up feelings…" Maurgarite laughed, "He told me the same story you did from his perspective and I am really surprised to be here!" I was so surprised as I saw this thirteen year old girl laughing at Erik and my story. I suppose it is a bit odd, our story but I do not know if I am ready to laugh at it yet. Of course one day it will become a story that we all look back upon and laugh, but not today. Not today, for the story has not finished yet. Its ending is unknown."

Christine was relieved to finally have reconciled with her daughter. Now that the past was behind them, they need only talk of their future. The trouble was that Christine did not know what they future has in store for them. She did not know what would become of their lives. Could Erik and Marguerite stay with her forever? Could they at last be the family that they should have become all those years? Would they have a happy ending?

Rather than spoil a perfect moment with her daughter Christine allowed these thoughts to swim around in her head as she and Marguerite walked around the gardens hand in hand talking. Marguerite was so curious about everything. She questioned everything from the type of stone in the pathway they walked on to the Latin names of certain flowers in the gardens. Her inquisitiveness about everything astonished Christine. Although she recognized this quality from spending time with Erik, it was uncommon for a girl to be this bright. Marguerite must have been busy during her years with Erik.

"If my memory serves me correct, you turned thirteen this past winter?"

"Umm, well I suppose you would know better than I… now that I think on it there is no way I ever celebrated my real birthday. I must have celebrated the day that I…came to live with my father for I celebrated my thirteenth birthday only a short time ago."

"Yes. Well, you were born in the winter on a cold snowy night. Like Erik…your father if I can remember right."

"I don't know much about father's past. I suppose even as a young child it was a subject that I just knew to leave alone. I do not think he ever doubted my capacity to discover hidden truths about the world around me but he also trusted that I would know not to mention it, I suppose."

"Yes, like his face."

"Well…" she paused, "I do not think he anticipated my understanding of that. My understanding of that came gradually and by that time, I could not see any imperfection. I had grown up to love and trust him; he was…is my father and nothing could change how I saw him. I once read a story about a girl who one day found out that the parents she was living with were not her real parents at all. She was adopted as a baby. Although they weren't her birth parents she always saw them as mother and father. Nothing could change that. Children don't see things like that; they embrace those who love them."

The wisdom this child emulated was unbelievable. Christine was baffled by her intelligence. "Yes, that is true. You are very smart Marguerite; your father must have taught you well."

"Oh yes. He taught me so many things. He taught me science, architecture, history, music, even ventriloquism. Oh, and some magic but not all because he likes to keep me amused." She laughed. "Besides, I could never match his slight of hand. He's too fast for me. I'm so clumsy sometimes."

"I always felt very clumsy next to him. His grace makes my movement look completely awkward and unladylike." Christmas smiled and held her daughter's hand as if to establish the connection they had just made.

"Come, let's go and see your father. He will be pleased that we have rekindled our love for each other."

Maurgarite broke away Christine's motherly grip for a moment, "Rekindled?"

Christine smiled gently and explained, "From the moment you were born to the moment you were lost to me, to when you returned to me, I have always and will always love you, my daughter." Maurgarite smiled and have Christine a long desired embrace. At long last after many years of waiting, mother and daughter had found each other never to be apart again.

Erik paced nervously around the parlor in Christine's home. His separation from Maurgarite caused him to be uneasy and worried. This illogical emotion caused him to smile for a moment and reprove his silly human emotion. Although a thought occurred to him; he was completely human. No longer an unfeeling apparition he was nothing but a man. Erik had the love and adoration of two beautiful women; his love and his daughter. He could not imagine how any other man's life could measure up to his.

Pacing about, he caught sight of his reflection in the piano. It's smooth, black surface slightly distorted his appearance. His reflection seemed to swirl and ripple the surface of the piano like he was looking into a black pool. He sighed. This was the barrier between his life and any other man's life; his face. Although he had replaced the mask for fear that any one passing the window might catch an unwanted glimpse, however he knew the grotesque reality that was underneath. Ironically, he seemed to be the only person in that house who saw it. Christine and Maurgarite seem to have drawn their own mask on his face even when his face was truly naked.

Forgetting his cause for nervousness, he quickly walked upstairs. He sat on the bed in the room that Christine and he had shared. As if dissecting, he slowly pealed the mask off his face and timidly brushed his hand across the surface of his left cheek. The rough surface seemed never ending and his hand slowly made its way to his malformed lips. The lips that Christine had so lovingly kissed many times; he knew not how.

Suddenly he heard movement coming from the stairs. His sense told him it was Christine. Remembering his bare face he groped around looking for his mask. Unbeknownst to him, it had fallen of the bed and under a table ajacent to it. Panicing he continued to look, although he was aware of Christine's presence in the doorway. Slowly he gave up and looked at her with obvious discomfort and embarassment. She looked hurt.

"Erik… you look at me like I'm a monster! What's wrong?"

Erik smiled at the irony and tried to hide his discomfort. But Christine, unlike most people, could see right through his emotions. "You're still uncomfortable about not wearing your mask around me, aren't you."

With slight shame, he dropped his head in a silent nod. Christine walked, unafraid, up to him and looked him in the eye. "Damn it Erik! When will this distrust end! Why can you not break down this barrier you have put in front of me, shielding you from me. Don't you understand how much I love you? Or does that not matter?" she was shrieking now in such a way that made him cringe. He could not help but think that she could be damaging her voice by screaming.

"Christine I… I'm shielding you from me. _I_ am the monster. I will always be the monster." Christine's eyes reflected no pity only sadness. She came closer to him and kissed him. Althought he resisted he could not refuse her love. He knew then as he always knew that Christine was indeed the love of his life. She was right; the mask between them would vanish and never return. Christine's arms encircled him in an embrace that seemed to say, "you are never leaving me again." Erik relaxed in this embrace and held her as if to say, "I will never leave you again."


End file.
